


Alpha Dog & Omegalomaniac

by GlasyaLabolas



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Body Horror, Cynophobia, Eventual Romance, F/M, Horror, M/M, Mild Gore, Suspense, light humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-26 08:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12553576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlasyaLabolas/pseuds/GlasyaLabolas
Summary: After barely escaping from being eaten alive, Izaya learns the truth about Shizuo's condition.





	1. Not the First or the Last

**Author's Note:**

> I could've waited til Halloween, but... I'm not a patient person.  
> Happy [Early] Halloween! (But please stay safe and observe the warnings on this fic!)
> 
> Also, take this as your only warning that this fic will be void of any and all of that gross A/B/O shit. So if you're here for that, go get your disgusting misogynistic fantasy sex slavery elsewhere. I do not like monitoring my comment sections and my comment sections are not for you to argue this or that in favor in A/B/O, so save us both the time here and don't ruin the ability to comment for everyone else.

Izaya Orihara no longer knows how long he’s been running for. He’s long lost track of where he is in his mental map of Tokyo, turning every other corner in effort to throw them off of his trail to no avail. They haven’t given up pursuit and the snarling behind his back only grows louder and closer every time he has to scale a fence. Izaya’s heart thuds against his ribcage like an animal desperate to break the bars of its cage or die trying and if he stops running for a second he’ll never catch another breath again.

 

The brunet turns down the next dark alley he finds, adrenaline keeping his sore feet and aching legs moving. He’s severely disadvantaged, fatigue encroaching ever persistently and his breathing too shallow and quick to even keep his brain properly oxygenated. Stress pumps throughout his body like the blood in his veins and, if he’s lucky, his heart will give out before they get to him.

 

Izaya can still hear their running feet on the pavement, the noise echoing around the cramped space and flooding his ears acidically. He counted three of them on his tail before he gave up on looking back, the image of rows upon rows of hungry razor sharp teeth imprinted forever in his mind like a burn brand on his skin. Sweat is clinging to every inch of his skin, his clothes sticking like a second skin, and it’s a wonder that his soles haven’t worn down to nubs by now.

 

Izaya exits one alley to race down another, mentally cursing the pervasive darkness of the new one. It’s certainly past midnight and the moon is high in the sky despite the city lights keeping the stars from peppering the night sky. He can’t see where he’s going clearly enough, stumbling around some garbage that’s littering the alleyway, and his eyes can’t strain themselves anymore than they already are.

 

When Izaya meets a dead-end in the form of a solid brick wall, he doesn’t have enough air in his lungs to sob.

 

The chasing feet slow down, crunching broken glass into the pavement as they know that they have him like a trapped rabbit. Izaya turns around, pressing his back against the brick wall for support as his lungs heave in and out, back and forth like a ship during a storm. He yanks out his switchblade, flicking the blade open too soon and cutting part of his jean pocket open. His weapon is ultimately useless, he fully knows, but Izaya refuses to die like trapped prey. He can’t take on one of those beasts as he is now, and he’s aware that taking on three or more is an impossible task, but going out with a fight is all he can hope for now.

 

Izaya’s squinting eyes trace around the dark alley, his lungs stuttering with their next breath as one of them slowly steps down the center of the alley towards him. His sore muscles brace themselves, anticipating the beast to charge at him, maw open.

 

There’s another crunch of gravel and Izaya’s eyes go wide as they dart to the rooftop on his right. A second beast peers over the ledge, teeth on display and drool dripping from their bared jaw. There’s two more similar sounds from his left and a creaky sob finally escapes his lips as he realizes that he’s too frightened to even check.

 

It’s a mistake and he knows it.

 

One of the beasts takes advantage of his fear, leaping from the rooftop and biting into his shoulder as they land on their four feet. Izaya screams in pain as their teeth tear into his flesh like tissue paper and he’s yanked forward like a rag-doll. With all he can muster, he plunges his blade into one of its eyes. Twisting the handle with a sickening squelch, he gouges the beast’s eye. It releases him with a howl of pain, backing away with its head bowed and bleeding. As it retreats, another descends from its perch on the right, jaw clamping down on Izaya’s wrist. The brunet hears and feels the snap of his bones under its strength as its teeth rip into his skin and muscle. Dropping his blade with a whimper, Izaya gasps as he struggles to stay on his two feet with the beast twisting and dragging him forward.

 

One of the beasts on the rooftops suddenly howls, the sound hitting Izaya’s body like ice water. The one biting his wrist releases him, their attention drawn to the noise, and Izaya slumps forward to the ground. He crawls backwards as best as he can manage, propping himself up against the brick of the dead-end. Izaya doubts that whatever that has captured their attention will save him from an agonizing death from being ripped limb from limb or eaten alive, but he lets the morbid hope of bleeding to death first bubble in the pit of his stomach regardless.

 

In a fit of madness, Izaya laughs aloud, the noise choked and broken like a strained, hissing kettle. He had always presumed that Shizuo would be his end, if not a Yakuza hit. But _wolves?_ In _Tokyo_ no less! How _fucking absurd!_ Yet, _here_ he was!

 

There’s more glass crunching by the entrance of the alley, the noise tensing the wolves surrounding the informant. Izaya’s too distracted to care, the haze of pain distorting everything and causing his vision to spin and swim. They’ve dismissed their injured prey for something else, the two in the alley backing up as if to protect their meal from theft.

 

One wolf bares its teeth with a growl and snarl, the blood from Izaya’s wrist painting their teeth red. Groggily, Izaya tries to focus his eyes on his possible savior as they approach and put his attackers on edge. The brunet guffaws at the familiar sight, positive that he’s fully lost it now.

 

“What the fuck are you doing in Ikebukuro, huh?” Shizuo demands gruffly around a lit cigarette. Strangely enough, the blond doesn’t appear to be addressing Izaya, his eyes carefully scanning the beasts before finally landing on the injured informant.

 

The one-eyed wolf rears back as the other steps forward. Its lips have drawn up to fully display its bloody teeth and gums and it growls again. Shizuo’s eyes tick with annoyance as if its spoken something that’s greatly inconvenienced him. The wolf on the right rooftop leaps down into the alley, baring its teeth with its own snarl.

 

“Alright,” the blond says, dropping his cigarette to the floor and grinding it out under his sole.

 

The bloody-mouthed wolf doesn’t show hesitation, charging forward and biting Shizuo’s left arm as it had Izaya. The blond’s neutral expression creases as he lifts his arm, wolf attached, to inspect it. The beast’s eyes widen with shock as it releases him and drops to the ground to back away. With only a miniscule bite-mark left behind, the only real damage Shizuo wears is his newly torn sleeve.

 

“My brother gave me this shirt.” He states, voice creeping deeper. A familiar expression of anger situates on Shizuo’s face as he carefully undoes the buttons of his vest.

 

“Don’t you know any fucking etiquette?!” The blond spits at them once he’s thrown his vest to the side and starts on removing his belt and pants.

 

Izaya’s suddenly no longer convinced that he’s not in a dream, though the pain _is_ quite extraordinary for a dream. At the very least, if he can’t admit physical attraction to the protozoan to himself on his deathbed, when can he? And wouldn’t you know it, he was right! Sometimes the blond did go commando.

 

Dress shirt already ruined, it doesn’t get the same treatment Shizuo’s other articles of clothing got. The white material rips open like a wet envelope between his fingers and his shoes and socks are tugged off and thrown towards the pile of clothing, leaving him fully naked in the dark alley.

 

Shizuo stands up straight, wholly unperturbed by his state of dress (or rather lack thereof) in front of his enemy. He takes a slow, deep breath and his shoulder violently jerks forward with a disturbing _pop_ as his arm dislocates itself. Izaya startles back against the wall, pressing impossibly closer against the brick as his widening eyes flood with disbelief.

 

The blond’s brown body hair stands on end and _grows_ before Izaya’s very eyes. One by one, the joints in Shizuo’s fingers jump out of place, bending the digits unnaturally as the bones break and elongate before restructuring themselves. Fragments of bone jut awkwardly against the underside of his skin, leaving little to Izaya’s imagination.

 

Shizuo’s honey brown eyes glow golden in the dark alley, Izaya’s gaze fixating on the supernatural color until his enemy’s jaw cracks and snaps out of place with a startling noise that grates against Izaya’s ears like two rocks colliding and grinding against one another. His teeth are being forced up and back for a stronger, sharper set as his jaw grows longer. Each one making a soft _clack_ as its superior takes its spot. Izaya tries to blame his wave of nausea on the pain and blood-loss as Shizuo’s taunt skin pulls itself tighter as his chest reorients his bones and organs, thick fur thankfully cropping up to obscure his view.

 

He’s gotta be dreaming! This can’t be real! If Shizuo really has been a monster this whole time, Izaya’s going to feel ridiculous and like he’s wasted so much of his time! But, more importantly, _stupid_. How the blond had kept _this_ from _him_ for _so long,_ Izaya wants to live long enough to know!

 

Three wolves now stand in the alleyway. Two black and bloody and one brown. Their body masses are too similar, all three twice as large as a normal wolf. On all fours, the only physical advantage Shizuo seems to have over them is a few centimeters of height, but Izaya knows full well how Shizuo’s appearance is deceiving.

 

The one-eyed wolf paces in front of the brunet, blocking his sight with its body, as the other braces itself for an attack, its muscles tensing. Unable to see their silent game of chicken clearly, Izaya’s gaze flies to his abandoned knife in the alley. It’s out of his reach, underneath the front legs of wounded attacker. With one wrist fractured and torn and his other hand’s shoulder not much better, the switchblade would be more of a security blanket than a weapon. However, none of that stops Izaya from keeping it’s location in his mind.

 

Two more wolves drop down from the rooftops, surrounding Shizuo on all sides. His head tilts very slightly, his ears twitching towards the noise. Slowly, his upper lip lifts and he bares his canines, his vibrating growl deeper and different from the voice Izaya’s accustomed to.

 

Izaya can’t tell who makes the first move, but there’s an immediate whine of pain and one of the wolves meets one of the adjacent walls with a heavy _smack_ and _crack_ as the wall crumbles under the force of the toss. It’s out cold from the blow, an open wound bleeding profusely on one of its front legs.

 

Two wolves dive at Shizuo as he snarls. One latches its jaw onto his front left leg as another bites his right rear leg. They both tug in opposite directions, neither able to force him to budge. He emits a sound more like that of a roar than a growl, twisting his head and biting his front attacker at their neck. Wolf trapped between the former blond’s stronger teeth, he turns on his heels and charges into the closest wall, slamming the opposing wolf into the brick and cracking a few of its ribs. It gives on impact, releasing him and slumping woundedly to the pavement. The one clamping on his rear leg releases him with a whine, having been dragged across the glass riddled floor of the alleyway.

 

Suddenly, one of the uninjured wolves howls and Shizuo freezes. His agitated and tense posture relaxes, standing confidently still. One of the wolves gutturally hisses at him as its injured allies limp behind them. The one-eyed wolf retreats with its head bowed but fangs bared as it has to circle around Shizuo towards the exit. Shizuo waits patiently, ears twitching and eyes unfocused as he listens closely to be sure they’ve fled far enough away.

 

Three minutes pass before he turns around to look at Izaya and his injuries. The brunet groans as he shifts against the brick wall, trying to stand and failing as his legs scream bloody murder at him. With one shoulder severely damaged and one wrist useless, he can’t even use the wall for support to help him stand.

 

Shizuo’s transformation is as grotesque in reverse as it was forward. The cacophony of snapping and cracking bones and the popping and clicking of relocating joints sickening Izaya more as it triggers his pain to renew with the fresh memory of his attack. He squeezes his eyes shut with another groan as he situates his injured wrist to be cradled against his chest before taking another look.

 

From Izaya’s angle on the ground against the dead-end, Shizuo’s head raises back against the center of the full moon. Golden hair and eyes glowing against the backdrop of the pale full moon, Izaya’s not sure if he wants to vomit or laugh in the moment.

 

Bare feet slapping against the pavement, the blond doesn’t waste time approaching and squatting in front of Izaya. To the brunet’s chagrin, he still doesn’t seem concerned about his lack of attire either.

 

Shizuo’s eyes are still glowing unnaturally, the intense and serious gaze he’s fixing the informant carrying more threat than ever before. “If you tell _anyone_ about me,” Shizuo starts too calmly and evenly for Izaya’s dwindling sanity, “I’ll track those shitheads back down and hand you over to them personally. _Got it?_ ”

 

Izaya smiles sharply despite his pain. “I’m bleeding out, Shizu-chan, not developing mental retardation.”

 

Shizuo’s nose crinkles with annoyed disgust, the action carrying a new animalistic quality to it. “Of all the fucking people,” he curses aloud to himself as he treks back to his pants for his phone. Shooting a quick text to Celty giving her their location, Shizuo casually redresses himself and helps himself to a smoke while he waits.

 

The alleyway is almost pleasantly silent until Izaya laughs, his chest shaking painfully as it quickly morphs into full-on cackling. Disoriented from pain and blood-loss, Izaya croaks, “You’re a fucking monster, Shizu-chan.”

 

“Should’ve just let them eat you,” Shizuo muses to himself with a shake of his head.


	2. Just Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo and Celty take Izaya to Shinra for treatment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy [Officially] Halloween!

Against Izaya’s own mental behest, he passes out before Celty arrives. Shizuo, trying his damnedest to ignore the brunet’s presence, doesn’t immediately notice until Izaya slumps further against the brick wall.

 

“ _Shit,_ ” the blond curses, jolting forward to nudge Izaya’s foot with his own. “Oi, I’m not gonna be a witness to your murder!”

 

When Izaya remains silent, Shizuo runs a hand through his hair with a hiss before crouching down in front of the informant. Fixating his eyes on the brunet’s still chest, he focuses his hearing. It’s difficult to drown out the typical noises of the city, even while tucked in an alley in the dead of night, and the more he tries to listen for specific noises, the more he hears televisions from the apartments nearby and the roaring cars and clicking heels of shoes going about their business a street over. But Izaya’s heartbeat is there, albeit faintly, along with his almost silent breathing.

 

Shizuo relaxes, tipping back on his heels and letting gravity sit his ass down on the pavement. He goes back to idly smoking while awaiting his friend’s arrival.

 

His eyes trace over Izaya’s injuries with nothing else to occupy his mind. The bite to his shoulder doesn’t seem intense, the bastard might get away with a few stitches and a bandage, but his bony wrist has been torn in to and snapped for sure. The blood in the air no longer smells fresh, although still pungent. Izaya’s probably got a few gods to thank when he wakes up if Shizuo is right and his artery wasn’t nicked.

 

Shizuo’s nose wrinkles, his cigarette doing very little to blur out the scent of blood and other Weres and, worst of all, _I_ _z_ _aya_. The flea fucking _reeks,_ his body drenched with sweat and matting his hair to his face. While Shizuo had picked up on the scent of other Weres in his territory first, it was near impossible to miss the scent of their target, Shizuo’s familiarity with the brunet making it all the easier to track the rogue gang down.

 

Shooter whinnies from two blocks away, cueing the blond to stand back up and walk to the end of the alley to make sure Celty doesn’t pass them by. As the dullahan’s ride roars towards their location, Shizuo softly curses his lack of a proper shirt. Wearing only the vest makes him look ridiculous, but his friend has seen far worse.

 

“[Are you alright?]” Celty types out once she pulls up to the curb.

 

“Yeah, but you’re never gonna guess who ain’t.”

 

Celty’s helmet cocks as she gets up and he leads her into the pitch black alley.

 

* * *

 

Shinra’s at the door, in his pajamas, before the doorbell even finishes ringing. “Shizuo! What did you drag my love out into the middle of the night fo-- _Izaya?!_ ”

 

“Shut the hell up and just take him,” the blond shouts, holding out the bloody young man in his arms.

 

Shinra freezes, holding up his hands in surrender and gesturing towards the backroom where his medical supplies are located. “That looks pretty bad, but I’m guessing that it’s not from you?”

 

Shizuo growls and Shinra takes two awkward steps back and out of his way, having to slink around the blond to open the backroom door and keep it from being kicked open when Shizuo’s foot rears up.

 

“Just put him on the table and tell me what happened.” Shinra casually says while skittering around the room for his various supplies.

 

After lowering Izaya to the examination table, Shizuo pulls back as if fearing being burnt. He grimaces at the blood staining his arms and chest, the invisible scent of the brunt’s sweat clinging to his skin more intensely than the drying copper fluid. Shinra snaps on a pair of surgical gloves after laying out his tools on the metal tray by the table.

 

“Dunno,” Shizuo says, swiping some of the towels by the sink to wipe at his body. “I was trying to enjoy the night and then I smelt six of ‘em and this bastard running, so I went to chase ‘em out. Izaya was being attacked when I got there.”

 

Shinra hums in acknowledgment, cutting through the brunet’s clothes to examine his wounds better. He whistles once Izaya’s shoulder is exposed, the deep indents digging through his skin and exposing some of the muscle. The skin around the entrance indents are torn, indicating that Izaya had been dragged slightly by his shoulder before release.

 

“It’s not fatal and, if Izaya is lucky and doesn’t stress it, his shoulder should recover fine.” Shinra informs despite Shizuo never asking about the brunet’s injuries, beginning to clean the wound carefully for the antibiotic and bandage. He turns around to dispose of his bloodied wipes and fix Shizuo with a stare like that of a parent talking down to their child. “That means no chasing, Shizuo-kun.”

 

The blond’s eyes narrow, opening his mouth to bare his teeth and retort when Celty pats his shoulder. “[Do you know why they attacked Izaya?]”

 

Shizuo exhales and inhales, swallowing his threat to shake his head. “Just that he’d make the fourth in… Two, maybe three, months?”

 

“Everyone’s on edge because of those dirt-bags,” he supplies as Shinra continues treating Izaya’s shoulder. “Umezaki even approached me about helping to ‘ _take care_ ’ of it.”

 

Shizuo’s eyebrows downturn as his nose crinkles with annoyance. Turning down the kind older gentleman’s request hadn’t made him feel too good then and certainly only worse now. It only figures that Izaya would force him in to action. Shizuo just wanted his peace and to be left alone. None of the other Weres were stupid enough to bring shit into his district and he had foolishly presumed that whatever the rogues were up to wasn’t going to spill onto his streets. The last thing they all want is to be exposed and these idiots were running down the city streets, chasing people for fun. Izaya certainly won’t report being attacked by werewolves though, the first two victims were already considered laughing stocks online last Shizuo overheard.

 

“ _Goddammit,_ ” Shizuo curses softly to himself. “I’ve still got some spare clothes here, right?” Celty nods, her helmet still on as she stays preoccupied with assisting Shinra. “I’m borrowing your shower, then. Fuckin’ flea stink all over me.”

 

As the blond exits, Shinra plops onto his stool and wheels around the table to cut Izaya’s sleeve next. He groans in his sleep as Shinra gingerly touches his wrist, mindlessly tugging the adjustable bright examination light closer to the brunet’s arm.

 

“Ah. Celty, my love, would you mind keeping Izaya still?” The dullahan immediately nods, shadows spilling from her sleeve and securing themselves around Izaya’s arm and fingers like straps.

 

“Some of his carpals have a few non-displaced breaks and scrapes by the punctures, but his radius and ulna are snapped clean.” Pushing up his glasses with his middle finger, Shinra theorizes that the Were tilted its head once it had enough pressure on the informant, likely to disable Izaya from fighting back. His attacker had missed his arteries by a few mere centimeters, giving Shinra the impression that it knew what it was doing.

 

With how sweaty the brunet is, he must have been running for his life for minimum of an hour straight. Izaya’s extraordinary endurance is already commendable when his pursuer is just a two-legged Shizuo, but six quadrupeds on his tail definitely pushed his limits. They were assuredly playing with him, his wounds almost like that suffered by a toy in the middle of a game of tug-of-war.

 

Shinra stills as Celty approaches his side with a vial of analgesic and a still-packaged syringe. Bouncing slightly on the stool to stop his gloved hands from clasping together, he coos, “You’re so caring and considerate, Celty! Are you sure that you don’t wanna try on that nurse costume tha-- _Ack_ _!_ ”

 

Celty’s hand slaps up the back of his head, phone jutting towards his face. “[Now’s not the time!]”

 

* * *

 

Turning the water off, Shizuo shakes in place before reaching for the towel he set out beforehand. He’s still pissy, annoyed that another set of clothes from Kasuka were ruined to save the flea of all people. His vest and pants can be dry-cleaned to get the blood and dirt out, but his shirt was tattered beyond repair and without it, the remaining articles are just spares. The pile of clothes still stink of garbage, blood, and Izaya, haunting one side of the bathroom with their stench as the scents of soap and shampoo radiate from the shower.

 

It’s gotta be rearing around three or four AM now and he has work tomorrow. Hair almost fully dried, Shizuo briefly considers stuffing his apartment keys into the bag of spare clothes and transforming back to run home to save a few more minutes of sleep before work, but the risk of someone seeing him is too great. Be it while transforming back or just his naked ass unlocking the door like a lover kicked out of bed. It’s entirely not worth it and Tom will always understand if he explains and apologizes.

 

Quickly dressing and exiting the bathroom, Shizuo spares a glance at the closed backroom door before letting himself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! Plot! Of course, stories like these will involve a few OCs that I hope no one minds. Judging by some of the reactions I've gotten from Mari in The Apple Tree, I'm guessing not. Especially since a lot of these OCs will be more background for universe building or just the villains. Anywho, this is my first real attempt to write Shinra. He's just like how I'd imagine Doctor!Delic is, right? (I joke.)
> 
> Friend of mine, Voissane, mentioned The Company of Wolves transformation sequence in her comment on the previous chapter. So, of course, I had to link her An American Werewolf in London, The Howling, and Late Phases. (If you can handle intense and various amounts of graphic imagery, have fun looking them up!) In the spirit of the holiday, feel free to share your own favorites!
> 
> As always, I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback, and correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine!


	3. Everybody’s Looking for Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya wakes up, Shizuo kicks a trashcan.

Izaya wakes up sluggishly. Bleary eyes blinking at the sun peering in through the partially drawn blinds. He shifts to test and wake his limbs, feeling new restrictions around his left shoulder and right wrist as well as the full-body soreness from his running. Pain spikes through his right hand and up his arm with the movement, and Izaya gasps sharply.

 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The cheery doctor notices, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. “Would you like something to eat with your pain medication?”

 

“ _You knew,_ ” Izaya spits back, ignoring his pain to glare at his so-called friend.

 

“About Shizuo? Yeah,” Shinra answers casually, nodding.

 

The pain punches Izaya’s stomach in time with the other brunet’s simple admittance, sending a wave of nausea to flood his system. “For how long,” he demands to know. For how long had he been foolishly trying to prove that a monster was indeed a monster? That Shizuo was no monstrous human but just a monster like any other supernatural creature that walks around Tokyo?

 

“Oh, hm,” Shinra pauses to take a sip of his warm beverage, “since elementary.”

 

Izaya’s eyes narrow as his mouth displays a severe frown. He shifts again, attempting to move out of the bed and finding it too hard of a job with his injuries and exhausted muscles.

 

“You’re going to want to take it easy, Izaya. Straining either your wrist or shoulder could lead to irreparable damages.”

 

“That _thing_ bit me,” the brunet begins to foully hiss.

 

“You can’t catch lycanthropy, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Shinra helpfully provides, easing away some of Izaya’s worries. “Shizuo’s kind are all born as they are. It was so fascinating to watch some of his development and how it differs from humans! Just think of the regenerative abilities we might be able to harvest from just some of his blood!”

 

Izaya suppresses the urge to roll his eyes as he leans back into the makeshift hospital bed. “Where’s that medication, Shinra?”

 

“Right, right! I’ll have my darling make you a slice of toast as well.”

 

Shinra darts out of the room to get breakfast and something for the other man’s pain, leaving Izaya alone to scope out where his phone might be located at. Coat hanging on the back of the door, his phone luckily rests on the bedside table. Izaya struggles to retrieve it with his right hand, quickly switching to his left when it drops in his lap. Ambidexterity never failing to prove itself useful, the informant scrolls past his missed calls and texts to open a web page.

 

With nothing else to do but wait until he’s rested and healed up, Izaya begins his newest research project.

 

* * *

 

“Full moon keep you up again?” Tom asks when Shizuo yawns for the second time in five minutes.

 

The blond shrugs as he shakes his carton of smokes for one. “Technically,” he murmurs as he lights his cigarette. “Those jackasses I mentioned, like, a week ago brought their shit into Ikebukuro.”

 

“ _Really,_ ” Tom stresses with astonishment. The other man can’t count on his fingers and toes the amount of supposed Weres they’ve casually passed by over the years that would visibly panic when Shizuo walks past them down the street. The more respectful ones would bow or toss a pleasantry of some sort, while most kept to their lane while trying not to make eye contact. According to the little he’s overheard and been told by Shizuo and a handful of others, Weres just weren’t as stupid to encroach on another’s territory like your typical human gangs were, though city life made it a necessity. No other Were claimed a whole district as their own, it was extremely unreasonable in their time, but no one was going to start a power struggle with _Shizuo Heiwajima_ , especially if all they wanted was a quiet life as well. Shizuo’s name and scent was enough to keep some peace, and some Weres had even flocked to live in the same district, knowing that their honest lives would be ignored by Shizuo.

 

“Yeah, but get this,” Shizuo flicks the ash off of the end of his cigarette as he points it like a finger, “They were chasing the flea this time.” With a shake of his head and another inhale, Shizuo says, “I don’t even think he realized where he was running to anymore when I got there.”

 

“Got there?! Did you actually _save Izaya’s_ skin?!” The blond frowns around his cigarette as Tom’s expression widens further and further with surprise. “So _he_ knows?”

 

“Yeah,” he growls, sharply turning towards the metal trashcan standing along the sidewalk and kicking it. The can bends inwards from the impact as it flies across the street and into a brick wall, some of the brick crumbling when it forcefully connects. “ _Fuck!_ ” Shizuo yells down at the pavement.

 

“H-Hey Shizuo, why don’t we have a quick bite before our first stop? Some food might help take some of your edge off.”

 

“Alright,” the blond sighs heavily. “I’m sorry, Tom.”

 

“Hey,” Tom holds up his hands to wave dismissively, “that guy knowing any of my secrets would piss me off too.”

 

“It’s not him knowing that bothers me,” Shizuo quietly admits as they begin walking. “No, that’s wrong. It _is_ him knowing that pisses me off. Izaya can’t drop shit, especially if it’s interesting to him. He’s probably nosing through my shit right now, broken wrist or not.” His teeth grit, grinding against one another as he easily imagines Izaya in full casts, still managing to rip Shizuo’s clothes from his drawers as he hopelessly searches for something incriminating. “He could never fucking leave me alone before, now he’s gonna be even more of a damn pest!”

 

Tom sighs, digging into his pockets for his smokes and lighter, as the blond next to him radiates with anger and annoyance. “Send him off to that older guy... what’s his name?”

 

“Umezaki,” he provides.

 

“Yeah, him. He’ll be able to answer all of his questions, right?”

 

Shizuo pauses in thought. “I dunno,” he eventually replies. “Human mates get enough scrutiny when they’re brought in, and that’s usually not until they’re pregnant or something.”

 

Shizuo absently scratches his cheek as he considers tossing the flea onto the older gentleman’s doorstep and finds that his stomach sours a bit with the thought. Umezaki genuinely wanted to keep the peace and help others despite his old age. Even though technology has been making information easier to come across and share, the majority of Weres wanted their secrets kept to blend in and so, records stayed on paper and in heads.

 

Shizuo calms down, though only very minutely, as he realizes that the less Izaya knows, the better for the rest of them. The bastard’s already made it his mission in life to torment Shizuo, any more of his typical bullshit won’t really be too much for the blond, but for others? They’d just be more people Izaya has the secrets of, more people for him to fuck up the lives of.

 

“Nah, I can deal.” He says gruffly, exhaling smoke as his cigarette dies between his lips. “It’s not like much has changed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World-building! Necessary set-up for next and future chapters! (I've really got nothing to say besides the fact that I should update something besides TBaTB for the, like, fourth time in a row. So, here I am!)
> 
> As always, I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback, and correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine!

**Author's Note:**

> There's quite the long bit of history related to this fic. You see, I used to peruse the DRRRKinkMeme for the occasional inspirational request. I've been a fan of horror for as long as I can remember and I'm just so in love with the werewolf sub-genre, so one request stuck out to me. Around the time I was planning this fic, something really annoyed me about how the grosser tidbits in werewolf AUs were being entirely left out. (I mean, really think about what you'd be smelling with that heightened sense of smell all day.) So, instead of writing this as I originally planned, my SO at the time kind of wormed me into writing some oneshots that you all might recognize as my Brown Furred Breeds series. Obviously, this is very different in nature.
> 
> The original request: http://drrrkink.livejournal.com/7084.html?thread=26300332#t26300332
> 
> As I've previously stated elsewhere, the plot of this fic is fully drafted and I really only have to write it out and worry about the shipping aspects of it. My life is very hectic this November, so I'm unfortunately unable to use this to properly participate in NaNoWriMo as I originally wanted, but I am... softly, mentally participating. This fic might be the only thing I update for a little while, but, knowing myself, I might just be working on a little of everything and jotting down my separate word counts to later add up.
> 
> As always, I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback, and correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine! Don't be shy, I don't bite.


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